Blog #53
Easter 2019. For some different reasons, Morris and I did a ‘low key’ weekend
with extra time for reading and rest. In our usual fast pace lives, times of
silence, privacy, and solitude is a gift. For Morris, a person with a
naturally introverted personality, this is pretty sweet, like his
favourite dessert - coconut cream pie – which he only gets occasionally.
For me, and my biological extroverted character type, it’s my needed balance
time.
Some of our reading effort this weekend was intentionally focused on the
centre of our faith – the cross. For a long time now in our life and
leadership, staying grounded in the disposition of Jesus (his life, death, and
resurrection) is a trajectory we keep positioning ourselves toward. Clearly, we
have not mastered it but it is what we seek and share with others.
One of the articles Morris read on Saturday came from the Christianity
Today magazine called “Easter Joy Belongs to the Melancholy”. The writer,
Elisabeth Rain Kincaid, admits her tussle with a celebration like Easter in the
midst of so much tragedy, ugliness, and heartbreak that is ‘in our face’
every day. Her anticipated Easter joy was tempered and she finds herself
unsettled about it. Then she discovers a collection of sermons from a
19th-century priest, John Henry Newman. Newman proposes that there are
different kinds of excitement or joy (aka: satisfaction, pleasure, fulfillment)
in our lives. He contrasts the celebration of Easter with the festivity of
Christmas, suggesting the joy (fun, revelry, excitement) of Christmas is like
the natural impulsive delight of a child. (Just ask most kids about Christmas
morning). In contrast, our response to Easter is more of a “lasting feeling and
not a first.” It is more mature, seasoned, well-aged and is experienced
gradually. It’s like a slow and steady recovery, a healing that happens step by
step, gently through pain and struggle (the emotions of Lent). Sometimes it is
hard to find the actual joy because it is bedded in discomfort or anguish, even
grief. It grows out of hardship – like the Bible says in Romans 5:3-5. Or it’s
like an emerging harvest of crops after a long season of uncertain breeding
conditions. It is tested and tried. In the end, though, the fullness of its
satisfaction is not only in spite of the trying process but because of it.
Using one of CS Lewis’s story’s, The Magician’s Nephew, Kincaid proposes
that most times in life, actual joy (the best pleasure, fulfillment, or healing)
never precludes struggle. The young hero, Diggory, in this tale gives his sick
mother a magic apple, a fruit of the Narnian soil expecting immediate recovery
for her suffering. (Apparently, Narnian apples have powers of healing
and strengthening). To the young boy’s dismay, the instant cure does not
come. It takes much longer than he expected, requiring patience and time - a
slow but thorough process. Only after much waiting and hope do the
healing gradually happen. Not only in Lewis’s tales, but in real life, the quest
for joy can include setback and struggle. Practically speaking, it is
life.
In Kenya right now there is widespread drought. A recent news story
declares it the worst drought in over 35 years in some areas. Our Projects’
Department is working with IHQ to acquire rapid response resources to support
many who are struggling to survive the food shortage. Sufficient rains are just
not coming. The celebration (or quest for joy) may be a very slow course. But
hope endures. Kenyans do not give up. They, literally, keep looking up as
everyone hopes and prays for rain.
I recently posted a picture on Facebook of a beautiful, vibrant woman I met
a couple of weeks ago. Her name is Veronicah. She is a bright, confident,
intelligent leader - a servant of God who has been a respected Salvation Army
officer for nearly 25 years. This year her body is raging a battle with the
dreaded C word – cancer. She has been through chemotherapy and radiation but the
tumour keeps growing. She is not sure if the joy she wants will come but she is
an amazing witness of deep solid faith and complete trust in the perfect plan of
God. She is inspiring so many others on her journey, creating a legacy of active
faith, perseverance and an unshaken commitment to what she believes
in.
On Easter Sunday morning, Morris and I joined an ecumenical chapel service
where our denominations were irrelevant. We were simply believers - disciples of
Jesus gathered to sing from our hearts: “Christ the Lord is risen today!
Hallelujah!” We prayed together for our country and our families. Immediately
after, I couldn’t wait to do a tweet and a Facebook post that expressed my
personal joy in the resurrection of Christ. It’s the foundation of my faith.
“It’s true! The Lord is risen!” (Luke 24:34). Just as I clicked ‘share’, I
scrolled down to the startling, tragic news of yet another horrific attack -
this time on three churches and a hotel in Sri Lanka. The joy of Easter morning
now embedded in global (and personal) pain and sorrow for so many. Hope, faith,
prayer, and love now showered on another community.
So what does all this mean? Where do we find real, actual joy? Will our
celebrations ever be free of some drizzle or full-on storm of
disappointment or brokenness? The truth is happiness, joy or personal
satisfaction for most of us seldom comes void of some amount of stress or
distress. So, does the quest for joy materialize in the sudden or impulsive
childlike moments of ecstasy, or is it more about that which comes slowly,
surely, and deeply in the midst of the throbbing stings of real life? Perhaps
the latter. Then again, maybe it’s not an either/or. Maybe it’s a both/and. One
thing I know. With the love and support of people around us and with a spiritual
pilgrimage that says God is always with us, a positive response to life, love,
and faith (actual joy) can be found.
Let me conclude with the last paragraph of Elisabeth Kincaid’s article
(with a slight paraphrase):
“Easter joy does not require us to leave our current realities behind or to
be unbruised by the events of this world. Instead, it comes when, like Diggory,
we return to the brokenness around us (including our own brokenness) with the
comfort of Christ’s presence and the instruments of grace that he provides for
us. In this act of return (to the world and to our everyday lives), joy comes
wearing a different, darker guise, but it appears deeper, better, and more
miraculous than anything we could ever expect.”
Happy Easter!
Visiting Veronicah
